


Like a Mirror, Reflecting Me

by mimiwriteswords



Series: Will You Love Me Most? [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst and Feels, Christmas, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Flashpoint (DCU), Grief/Mourning, Holidays, Older Man/Younger Woman, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimiwriteswords/pseuds/mimiwriteswords
Summary: “Boss and employee?” She interrupts with a wistful smile. “Because that is what we are, right?”
Relationships: Caitlin Snow/Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells
Series: Will You Love Me Most? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113719
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Like a Mirror, Reflecting Me

**Author's Note:**

> Here is Caitlin and Harry's story in Flashpoint that nobody asked for. This is an accompaniment to Will You Love Me Most but can be read on it's own. It is a few weeks late hence all the holiday vibes. If you are experiencing withdrawal from the holiday season (I certainly am), this should offer you some comfort. The title is from "Dust to Dust" by The Civil Wars.
> 
> I do not know how large scale technological/scientific institutions work so if I made a mistake in portraying them, I sincerely apologize. I'm using my imagination on this one.
> 
> A big thanks to J as always, who refused to indulge me when I said I was "tapped out".

“No.” 

“Harry, hear me out-”

“Not interested.”

“But-”

“I did not approve this, Cisco.”

He does not need to turn around to know that Cisco’s sigh is accompanied by a dramatic eye roll. He closes his eyes briefly, enjoying the soft kiss of sunlight on his face. This is probably the last warm day of it’s kind before the warm sunlight gives way to crisp, misty mornings. He exhales as he opens his eyes to the familiar hustle and bustle of Central City. He has traveled extensively over the years but this view, from the 14th floor of S.T.A.R. Labs, overlooking the city -and his empire- has an undeniable hold on his heart. This affection for his city is always intensified when returning from an odious work trip. He had hoped that it would be a relaxing Friday, devoid of any hassles so he could catch up but it had barely struck 11 am when Cisco strutted into the office with news that instantly invoked a migraine.

“I think it’s a little ridiculous that you refuse to even listen to me.”

“I think it’s a little ridiculous that you hired someone without consulting me. That too for such a crucial department, at such a senior position.” He turns around, pointing to the door. “Both our names are on the door. It needs to be a joint decision. That was the deal when you signed on as a partner in S.T.A.R Labs.”

“Well…I know for a fact that you won’t mind this hire so I took some liberties.” Cisco says smugly, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Because your last hire turned out so well?” Harry shakes his head, irritated at the way Cisco’s smile widens.

“I got her.” Cisco whispers mysteriously. 

“Who?” Harry asks after a brief pause. His voice is more unsteady than he would have liked it to be. His heart plummets to his stomach as Cisco shuffles, standing up and drawing out the moment needlessly. There’s a strange inkling in his being as if he knew who Cisco was referring to but he couldn’t be certain unless…

“Dr. Caitlin Snow.” Cisco announces with flourish. “I made her an offer last week and she accepted immediately. You’re welcome.”

\---

The office is small and the view unimpressive but a tingle still travels down her spine as she walks past her office door, her name written in bold, unabashed letters. Fighting the overwhelming urge to pinch herself, she tells herself that this has been a long time coming. It’s a welcome respite from the tumultuous past few years but also a bittersweet reward, one that she acknowledges with an immense sense of gratitude.

A glance through the door tells her that despite the early hour, S.T.A.R Labs is busy. Not that she is surprised. The institute is rife with over-achieving scientists, each one insisting that their research was more important than the others. There is something in the air today, she muses, watching the straight backed researchers in white lab coats strut purposefully past her office. Perhaps a Friday morning staff meeting she is not aware of? There will be time, she knows, to acquaint herself with the workings of her department. Joining an institute of this size requires more paperwork that she cares for but she is willing to buckle down and take care of it. There is a strategic plan to familiarize with, funding applications to fill out and research equipment to order. Her calendar is booked for the following week but it is crucial to make a good first impression on her colleagues. These places could either build or break one’s career and while it seems irrational to worry about such things when she is relatively well-established in her field, she knows that erring on the side of caution has always propelled her further into this world and she sees no reason not to abide by it.

Especially since a chance for a fresh start does not come around often.

The morning goes by in a chaotic daze and it’s almost noon when she hears footsteps shuffling outside her office. With the phone receiver nestled between her shoulder and ear as she listens to a shrill voiced woman give directions, she swirls the chair towards the glass door and nearly drops the phone.

Standing next to Cisco Ramon, in dark, formal clothing and displeasure evident in his intensely blue eyes, is Dr. Wells.

She had wondered with great trepidation, when walking into the S.T.A.R Labs on her first day, what she would say to Dr. Wells upon encountering him. It had been nearly a year since their previous interactions and while they had been pleasant, she had a sense there might be some lingering disappointment on his end. But she had made it here after all, she told herself, even if it may not have been during their initial conversation and the subsequent job offer. It had been a relief to know that she wouldn’t have to worry about it while he was away, but now as he stands on the other side of the door (sooner than expected), the familiar nervousness begins to coil its way through her.

Besides the slight narrowing of his eyes, he stands very still, hands thrust into his pockets as Cisco taps on the door. 

With her heart thudding wildly, she beckons them and watches as Cisco bounces into the room with his usual jubilance and Dr. Wells, saunters in with a palpable air of indifference.

“Yes, that sounds good.” She replies to the shrill woman, wrapping up the conversation. “Thank you very much for your help.”

“There she is!” Cisco exclaims as she places the receiver down. “Dr. Caitlin Snow here at S.T.A.R Labs, after all these years!”

Despite the nerves, she manages to chuckle. “I’ve been here a few days now, Cisco. Novelty hasn’t worn off yet?”

“It’s going to take a few more weeks to wear off, if I’m being honest.” Cisco had joined S.T.AR Labs a few years ago, rising through the ranks much faster than expected. His trajectory caught Dr. Wells' attention, who in a surprising turn of events for many, made Cisco a partner in the institution. She and Cisco had known each other for decades and during their last monthly lunch, he had brought up this position. By the end of the meal, she had a contract tucked under her arm. 

“You know Dr. Harrison Wells, of course.” Cisco gestures to his left. 

“Yes, I do.” She stands up to her full height, looking straight into his steely eyes. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

His handshake is cold and firm.

“Well, I thought I’d bring him by.” Cisco says after a pause. “I have monopolized much of your time this week so it’s Harry’s turn now. We’ll chat after.” With a wink in her direction, he prances off as quickly as he had entered.

“Would you like to sit down?” She breaks the silence, determined to quell the tension in the air. When he makes no attempt to sit, she sinks into her chair, bracing herself. “I imagine that you are surprised that I accepted the offer.”

To her utter amazement, he let out a wry laugh.

“I offered this position to you a year ago.” He replies curtly, his voice as low and gruff as she remembers it. 

“Yes and for that I will always be grateful.” The words escape her before she has the time to consider them.

“I offered this position to you multiple times, if I recall correctly.” He gazes down at her, ignoring her previous statement altogether. “But you turned me down. More than once.”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand how unusual that is, Dr. Snow?” He grasps the back of the chair across from her and leans down slightly. “For S.T.A.R Labs to essentially _beg_ for a researcher such as yourself?”

“Of course, I do.”

“No, you don’t.” He counters, sharply. “Or else, you would have been celebrating your one-year anniversary at S.T.A.R Labs by now.”

She swallows thickly. A quiet drumming has begun in the back of her neck, his tone sending little pricks of irritation through her.

“Do you have nothing to say to that?” He asks and she raises an eyebrow in response. “Why are you here then?”

“My situation changed.” She replies, not caring to mask the annoyance in her voice.

“What happened?”

“Excuse me?”

“You told me you were off to work on a project with another institute.” He states. “What happened to that?”

“How could you ask me that after you hired me….” She stops short as realization engulfs her like a big wave. “You don’t know because you didn’t hire me.”

She huffs, leaning back in her chair as he nods his head in assent.

“It was Cisco.” She mumbles. “No wonder he was in such a hurry to get me here. You didn’t know…. You don’t want me here-”

“I never said that.” He interrupts. “I do want you.”

His gaze is steady and bright, and she has the sudden desire to shield herself from it. He looks like he had when they first met at that conference over a year ago- tall, powerful, and overwhelmingly magnetic.

“Here, that is.” He clears his throat. “I want you here.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” She offers, gently. “That usually makes conversations like this less awkward.”

“I was informed twenty minutes ago that you had been hired.” He says, pulling the chair out. “I had been away for a few weeks which gave Cisco the perfect opportunity to manipulate the situation.”

“I see.” She nods. “Cisco made it seem like the offer had always been on the table.”

“No, it had not. What I mean is,” He clarifies as she winces at his curt tone. “The offer was no longer valid after the last time you and I spoke about this. I believe that was the fourth time I approached you.”

On a chilly November morning last year, he had interrupted her busy day with what he called a “final ditch effort” to recruit her. She had been struck by the fatigue in his voice, a stark contrast to the other times when it had been smooth and commanding.

“You are going to say no again, aren't you?” He had asked when she began her well rehearsed speech. It was flattering, undeniably so, to be courted by S.T.A.R Labs. But despite the strong pull to throw caution to the wind and accept the silver platter he held, she stood her ground, arguing that she saw no need for this change. 

“I am content with my current situation, Dr. Wells.” She had affirmed and listened as he sighed, the sound soft and muffled through the phone.

“You could be very happy here, Dr. Snow.” She remembered the way her resolve had started to crack a little at the statement.

“I have no doubts about that.” She answered. “But I’m afraid, I cannot accept it.”

It was kind, she thinks, watching Dr. Wells settle in the chair across her desk, and it was entirely odd that he had been so insistent to have her at S.T.A.R. Labs. And now that his business partner had gone behind his back, the whole ordeal must have left a bitter taste in his mouth, she concludes.

“Would you like me to leave?” She asks, bluntly.

“Excuse me?”

“The job.” She clarifies, gesturing to the office. “I haven’t finished unpacking, it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.” He is looking at her as if she has grown a second head but she keeps her gaze steady and devoid of emotions.

“You have some nerve…” He mutters through gritted teeth. She must not have been convincing enough because he continues, “You would be able to walk away from this? From S.T.A.R Labs?”

“I would rather not work where I am not wanted, Dr. Wells.” She replies, calmly.

“How noble of you. Listen, Snow.” He leans forward. “We are the foremost research institution for scientific innovation. You are lucky to have a place here. You have the opportunity to do some top class work here. Only a fool would walk away from this.”

His gaze is piercing and a tad too wild and she wants nothing more than to fling the stapler at his head. Instead, she settles for a sigh. “Well, then.”

“So you will stay?” He inquires, eyebrows raised. When she nods again, his shoulders sag. “Good. We should have a meeting sometime next week. I'll let you get settled.”

A thought occurs to her as he stands up. 

“My contract.” She blurts as he straightens. “I suppose that was Cisco’s doing as well? I noticed that he was quite generous with my teaching hours.”

He smiles with a touch of insouciance, as he buttons his blazer. “That was the original contract we had drawn up for you.” 

“Oh.” She lets out a breath, one she didn’t know she was holding in. 

“You had mentioned,” He goes on, “that you would like to continue teaching so I thought it would be best to accommodate that request.”

Her breath catches in her throat as the implication of his comment settles over her. It had been during her second meeting with him, her first visit to S.T.A.R Labs, when she had broached the subject. 

“So, if I were to consider what you are proposing…” They had been walking side by side, touring the outstanding facilities at S.T.A.R. Labs.

“Hmm.” He answered.

“Would there be any accommodation for my teaching hours?” 

“You still want to teach?” He had asked, bewildered by her request. “At the university?”

“Of course.” She replied. “Don’t you teach?”

“Not if I can help it.” He answered. “I’m not a patient person, especially not patient enough for undergraduates. I invest in the people I bring here. I teach _them_.”

She had tried to tamp down the disappointment she felt but was not successful because he had chuckled instantly.

“Oh, I see.” He teased, tossing a sideways look at her. “You are one of _those_.”

“If by ‘those’ you mean someone who has strong pedagogical beliefs which includes, _investing_ in undergraduates, then yes, I am.” She countered. “My teaching commitment is non-negotiable.”

It seems amazing that even after naming her many stipulations, he had still gone out of his way to draw her a contract that accommodated just about everything she asked. She couldn’t remember the last time an employer- or a person- had done that for her.

“Thank you.” She musters. “I appreciate it.”

He swings the door open, one foot over the threshold and then stops. With his body titled halfway, he meets her gaze.

“S.T.A.R Labs is lucky to have you as well.”

\---

She spends the weekend at home, pouring over research papers published by S.T.AR Labs in the last few years, wondering what possible projects she could conduct. It’s early, she knows, especially considering that she has not even seen her lab properly but she can’t herself. A particular idea has been burrowed in her mind since she was a medical student and now she just might have the resources to conduct the research. Sunday afternoon finds her on her desk, overlooking the street below her apartment, and writing a proposal. I’m not here to play it safe, she reminds herself, and taps away fervently until the night air flows in through the open window.

It’s never been natural for her to reach out and simply take what life dangles in front of her. But she has spent too many years being dormant, watching her own life from the sidelines, as it unfolded in front of her. With a quick glance at Ronnie’s photograph, she reminds herself that she had nothing to lose.

She forces herself to engage with her new colleagues, all of whom are friendlier that expected. People here are of excellent caliber and certainly, competitiveness is part of the game but it’s not as cutthroat as her previous places of employment. A system of support seems to exist in every department, making its way through the ranks. It is testament to how the institute is run. Cisco definitely has a hand in it, she’s certain, but much to her surprise, she learns through multiple conversations that Dr. Wells, despite his taciturn exterior, is just as responsible.

She is finishing up on the proposal when she catches some of the staff on her floor, scuttling towards the elevators. A quick glance at the clock is enough to jolt her straight up, reaching for her notebook and phone, and make a beeline for the elevator before it shuts. It would be utterly humiliating, she thinks, patting away the creases on her skirt, if she was late to her first big meeting at S.T.AR. Labs. The conference room door is pulled close as the elevator door slides open and she all but lunges towards her destination. She whips the door open, entering without an ounce of elegance only to find the room is not quiet as expected but alive with conversation. Taking a quick breath to steady herself, she walks further into the room, grateful that no one saw her hurtling in like an overenthusiastic puppy.

Of course, she is found out as soon as she takes another step.

“Dr. Snow, there you are.” Dr. Wells announces. Thirteen pairs of eyes turn towards her and she smiles, despite the unnerving gazes. “Everyone, this is our newest hire, Dr. Snow. Please take the time to introduce yourselves if you have not already.”

Cisco winks at her and the nervousness dissipates a little at a friendly face. Everyone begins to move towards the large table in the center and she follows suit, sitting next to a blonde woman who smiles at her warmly.

Dr. Wells takes a seat at the top of the table and continues. “Now that our guest of honor is here, let’s begin.”

With a swift glance her way, he signals to Cisco and the meeting begins. Everyone is concise, she notes, never lingering longer than necessary. They work like a well-oiled machine, ticking off important points on the agenda with exuberance. The hour passes so quickly that it takes her a second to realize that Dr. Wells had spoken the least. He had mostly listened, leaning back in his chair with a sense of authority that seemed etched into him, and offered a sentence or two after every department head had concluded their report. He wraps up the meeting as succinctly as he had begun it. She gets up quickly, as people shuffle around and offer her polite smiles on their way out, and makes her way to the front.

“It’s not official until you’ve survived your first meeting in this room.” Cisco says as he spies her. “I hope we didn’t bore you to death.”

“Of course not. It’s nice to get familiar with everyone.” She replies. “But why was I invited? I am not a department head.”

She doesn’t miss the quick look that passes between Cisco and Dr. Wells.

“This meeting isn’t just for department heads but also for anyone with ongoing, large scale projects.” Cisco explains.

“But I don’t have any ongoing, large scale projects.” She counters, eyebrows raised.

“Well, you’re a researcher of some renown.” Cisco fumbles. “And the department heads wanted-” 

“You’re going to do some flashy research for us.” Dr. Wells interrupts Cisco. His tone is flat and she knows right away that he is not one to waste long-winding speeches on.

“I am?” 

“What Harry means,” Cisco says, glaring at Dr. Wells. “We are hoping that you will conduct some innovative research, which has been sorely lacking in your particular field here at S.T.A.R Labs. Do you have anything you’ve been working at?”

She thinks back to the proposal she has been tinkering with and wonders if her silver platter could get any bigger. 

“Perhaps.” She says, attempting to curb her enthusiasm. “I could write something up and send it-”

“To me.” Dr. Wells interrupts again. He has a definitive look on his face and she instantly feels the irritation from their previous encounter stir in her. She swallows thickly; she didn't leave one demanding boss for another.

“Why? You’re not my department head.” She challenges, keeping her voice measured. She had met with her department head Dr. Fletcher, a wonderful man in his sixties, a few days ago.

“I authorize all funding so I need to be in the loop.” His voice sounds threatening. 

The set of his jaw tells her that he’s not to be argued with but she is nothing if not a determined woman. Forgetting that she’s new and young and that he could end her career before she even blinks, she says. “You will be in the loop. Once Dr. Fletcher has reviewed it and made amendments, I will send it your way.”

The ire in his eyes almost has her faltering, but then he stalks out of the room without a word. Cisco lets out a low whistle.

“He’s not used to being challenged.” He claps her on the shoulder. “I think you’re going to be great for S.T.A.R Labs.”

If only she felt as confident. 

Later that week at Jitters when Barry asks her, with a gleeful look on his face, what working for Dr. Wells is like, she decides to opt for the truth- it’s confusing. Despite her chilly meetings with Dr. Wells, she has noticed that he is adored by his staff. From Dr. Fletcher to the administrative assistants, no one has a bad word to say about him. And she’s beginning to see why.

He exudes a kind of charm and grace that seems so rare; one might even call it old fashioned. He seems to be curious about his staff, inquiring about their health, significant others and children. Mary, one of the lab technicians, trapped him during a visit to the fourth floor with a long-winding story about her grandchild to which he replied with interest. She’s seen him trading friendly banter with multiple people on her floor and it hurts just a little more as his gaze turns cold when he sees her watching. They have had limited interactions outside of work related meetings, a ‘hello’ and ‘good evening’ in the parking lot or in the stairwell she has been frequenting to take a break. He had approved her project the same day she had submitted it and sent a curt email informing her. 

“Does Dr. Wells ever visit your lab?” She asks, Dr. Patty Spivot, a fellow bioengineer. Patty had cornered Caitlin as soon as she had left the conference room after the first Department and Research meeting, introducing herself. She invited Caitlin to her lab a few weeks later, letting her have a look at a project she had been working on.

“He does, occasionally. Depends on what the project is.” Patty answers as they walk through the lab.

“He hasn’t come to mine yet.” Caitlin remarks. This piece of information drives the knife a little deeper, considering that her lab has been up and running for a few weeks.

Patty noticies her tone and gives her an encouraging smile. “Don’t read too much into it. He will be there soon enough.”

“Really? Because I don’t think he….” She stops, feeling juvenile for even thinking it. She doesn’t _need_ him to like her, she’s a grown woman who has had her share of unpleasantness. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but what choice does she have? 

“Oh, _Caitlin_.” Patty giggles, shaking her head. “He was waxing poetic about you and your abilities last year, when they were wooing you. Trust me, he’s aware that S.T.A.R labs has reeled in a win with you.”

“Is it common knowledge?” Caitlin asks, concerned. “About him- _them,_ offering me the job last year?”

“For some of us.” Patty answers and Caitlin can instantly see that she is not letting on as much as she knows. “It was a bit of a shock when you turned it down for another place. Where were you working?”

Caitlin sucks in a breath and gives the answer she’s prepared for these moments.

“Oh, I hopped between Mercury Labs and Tannhauser Industries. Nothing permanent came out of it, so here I am. Shall we get some lunch?”

\---

It’s irritating to confess to himself how wrong he had been about her. He was certain he had her figured out- a brilliant woman but young and impossibly headstrong. No other person had ever put him through the ringer like she had, only to turn him - _the job,_ he reminds himself- down so assuredly. One would think she had been on her way to conduct some top secret Nobel prize winning research. He had waited unnervingly over the past year, hoping to catch a glimpse of her work somewhere but he was met with a deafening silence. He had stopped thinking about her, shunning her and the promise of her brilliance from his mind when she showed up here, exactly as he remembered her.

The truth is he’s rather curious to find out where she has been but he also doesn’t want to give in. Give in to what exactly, he asks himself, he has no idea. He has access to her file and with a few taps of his keyboard, his curiosity could be satisfied. 

He sighs, turning back to the email he should be reading. There is a pile of work that needs attending to, multiple projects to be updated on and of course, Jessie to check in on. He does not have the time to dwell on Dr. Caitlin Snow.

But dwell, he does.

She’s always here early, he often runs into her in the elevator on the way up. He’s noticed that she tends to works late on Fridays, usually when everyone else is racing to the door, and he wants to poke his head into her office and ask what the hell can’t wait till Monday? He suspects that she takes work home for the weekend and he loathes that he’s a little impressed with her dedication. She has a warm and friendly disposition, and everyone seems to consider her a good addition to S.T.A.R Labs. He hears the rumours, the whispers of excitement when she breaks ground on her research. It’s cutting edge and risky but if it is successful the payoff and the lives impacted will be monumental. S.T.A.R Labs has always housed flashy research- some of it including his own work- but this is a whole new level. 

She presents her updates with a consistent, calm precision at the Department and Research meetings, her answers always cautiously optimistic. While he appreciates enthusiasm in young researchers, he is glad for her level-headed and pragmatic approach. He can’t help but watch her with rapt attention and as her large eyes land on him at the close of the hour, he feels the long dead spark of inspiration buried deep within him begin to revive. She follows it up with a pointed remark, in what he is learning is typical fashion for her, that her lab is functioning and ready to welcome visitors. His lips quirk up to the side, he has to commend her audacity. 

He ventures to her lab later that day with Cisco in tow and feels a stab of glee at the surprised look on her face. Recovering at a lightening speed, she clears her throat and addresses them, “Lab coats, please.”

Cisco reaches behind the door with a sigh but Harry shakes his head. “No need, we won’t be long.”

She narrows her eyes at him, growling, “Lab coat, or you can stay by the door.”

He can hear Cisco’s giggle behind him at her chastising him and this insubordination should really set his teeth on edge but the determined look in her eyes sends the message home- _her lab, her rules._ He slips on the lab coat, tailing behind her and Cisco as they banter like old friends.

He watches them from his office sometimes, sneaking in a short lunch or sharing a muffin in the early hours of the morning. He’s walked into Cisco’s office late in the day to find them in the throes of laughter, reminiscing about their many antics. He’s happy for his friend because he _certainly_ would never sit around with Cisco discussing old events but the sudden pang of jealousy is jarring. It is juvenile and uncalled for, but his life feels suddenly upended with this surge of emotions he’s been feeling lately. So he makes some calls, moving meetings around and with a kiss on Jesse's beautiful, sleep riddled face the next morning, he boards the company plane, heading to the other side of the country.

It is a productive few days and he even manages to sneak in some quiet time. When he was a young father, he used to -guiltily- wait for work trips that would give him a chance to recharge from the demands and agony of being a single parent. He would buy something ridiculously expensive for Jesse and hope that she would one day forgive him. But Jesse has always been understanding about his work and if he offends her, she makes it abundantly clear.

He is bursting with good news when he returns to Central City and he seeks out Cisco as soon as he steps foot in S.T.A.R Labs. It’s early and the cold October morning makes him want to grab another coffee but he stalls. Perhaps he can reward himself with a celebratory one after.

Cisco’s office is identical to his own in layout but much more lively in decor. His comic book obsession is on full display as are the many pictures of his family. He is hunched over his laptop, punching away at the keyboard with unmistakable fury.

“You alright?”

Cisco’s head shoots up. “Oh, you know. Hartley’s being a jackass _again._ Do we really need him?”

“Yes.” Harry answers, settling into the chair across from him. “I can deal with him, I’ve told you that. Send him my way.”

“You old softie.” Cisco croons. “But I can stand up to my nemesis myself-”

“He is not your nemesis, he is your _employee_.” He interrupts. “You have to act professionally, need I remind you.”

“Maybe I should be reminding you about professional behaviour.” Cisco leans back, eyebrows raised.

“What do you mean?” He grumbles, knowing where the conversation is headed. 

“Caitlin.”

“What about her?” He bites out.

“ _That_ right there.” Cisco points an accusatory finger at him. “I don’t understand it. You fought tooth and nail with the board last year for her and now that she is here, you are being a complete jerk to her.”

“I am _not_.” He argues. “What, did she complain about me?”

It’s a low blow, he is aware, as evidenced by the fire in Cisco’s eyes.

“No, she did not. She’s not that type of person. You would know that if took the time to act professional and get to know her.”

“I treat her with the same level of civility as all my other employees.” He says, the lack of conviction in his own voice surprises him.

“ _Harry_.”

“Fine. Maybe I haven’t warmed to her.” _Yet,_ he adds in his head, well aware that his distance cannot be kept up forever.

“Are you jealous?” Cisco asks, softly. “That she decided not to work with us?”

“No, of course not-”

“Or maybe you’re angry-”

“Ramon, stop-”

“Well, it’s something.” Cisco fires back. “I know you’re not the friendliest person but this is unlike you, Harry.”

“If you must know,” Harry says through gritted teeth, after a pause. “I’m a little suspicious of her.”

“Why? You think she’s some sleeper agent working for another institute?” Cisco chuckles.

“She was adamant, Cisco. I saw it in her eyes, I heard it in her voice.” He replies, remembering their multiple conversations- at the conference, over coffee, in S.T.A.R Labs, over the phone. “She was hellbent on working elsewhere and less than a year later she cut off ties with that place? What the hell happened?”

Cisco gives him a quiet look. “You could ask her.”

When he looks away, Cisco sighs in surrender. “How was your trip?”

“Good.” He looks back at Cisco, remembering the reason for his visit. “I was approached by Tannhauser Industries…”

He launches into conversation he had been planning to have, highlighting the opportunity of a joint venture. It’s rare for him to want to take this step but Tannhauser Industries is not quite a competitor so it would come across as a gesture of goodwill.

Cisco is quiet as he listens, head tilted to the side.

“It has potential.” He offers.

“Do we know anyone over there?” Harry asks. “Do any of our folks have a connection?”

“Well….” Cisco's face is a cross between a grin and a grimace. “You won’t like the answer.”

He watches Cisco cross his arms behind his head, a smug look on his face and Harry’s heart sinks. An hour later, he finds himself a few floors below and stationed outside her office door. She’s hunched over on her desk, one hand holding down some files and the other scribbling away at an astonishing speed. Her head lifts up, as if deep in thought and her gaze lands on him. He feels caught as her furrowed brow disappears and in ts place is a look of utter surprise. He knocks lamely and enters when she nods.

“Dr. Snow, do you have a minute?”

She gestures to sit across from her and as he settles in the chair he feels her gaze on him. It’s disquieting, as her eyes reach his and he can sense the disconcerting air that surrounds them. Forcing his gaze away, he takes in the neat lines of her office. There are books, files and diplomas galore but no photographs or personal items besides the mug next to her hand and her coat and purse hung up on the coat rack.

“What can I do for you, Dr. Wells?” Her voice, somewhere between gentle and purposeful, snaps him out of his observations. The blue of her sweater sets beautifully against her pale skin, long hair curling down her back and he finds himself a little slack-jawed at their proximity. Perhaps he should have spent the previous hour preparing a speech instead of going through her file with a fine toothed comb. How can he begin to make amends, he wonders as her expression turns more curious with each passing second.

“I had a question for you. We have...” He begins, swallowing thickly. “We have the opportunity to work with Tannhauser Industries and I am aware that you have worked with them.”

“That’s not a question.”

He falters at her direct reply, unprepared for the chilliness.

“Since you have a connection, a history there...” He continues, self-consciously. “I was hoping we could take advantage of that? It’s not a large scale project so your attention would not be diverted too much from your current research.”

Her face is positively stony and he remembers the nickname Cisco had mentioned to him a while ago. _We used to call her the Snow Queen._

“Did Cisco tell you anything about my time at Tannhauser Industries?” She asks, cautiously.

“No, he’s been very secretive about it.” He leans back, watching her fidget uncharacteristically. It’s not much, just a touch on the desk, tucking a curl behind her ear, a swift bite to her lower lip but it is enough to catch his attention.

“But you are familiar with my time there?”

“Of course.” He doesn’t bother to add how willfully obtuse he had been to learn about her. She must have the answer she’s looking for because she exhales in relief.

“No.”

“Pardon me?”

“No, I cannot be part of the project with Tannhauser.” She picks up her pen, readying to go back to her work. “I appreciate you asking me.”

The silence hangs in the air, infuriating him even more.

“I’ve tolerated a lot from you over the past month.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “But when I came in here suggesting this project to you, I expect you to take the day to consider it. Or at least pretend you will before you turn it down.”

“I don’t need a day.” She shoots back. He has to take a breath and look away from her fiery eyes to compose himself.

“Do you know how many people get a chance-”

“No, no. Don’t do that.” She snaps. “Don’t tell me what I’m giving up or what a valuable opportunity I’m letting slip through my fingers. I may not have been doing this as long as you or the other researchers here, but I am not an idiot and I do not appreciate you treating me like one.”

He is frozen to the spot, as if she had casted an incantation on him that rendered him speechless. 

“And I have been tolerated a lot from you as well.” She continues, leaning forward and eyes narrowing. “I know for a fact that you do not treat your employees the way you have been treating me. I’ve also witnessed what you’re really like firsthand, Dr. Wells, or are you forgetting all the conversations we had last year? Or is that an act you put on just for potential employees?”

He could willfully dig his own grave this very moment. Humiliation flows through him in waves. Everything she said was ridiculous, embarrassing and absolutely true. She looks a little shocked herself, as if unable to fathom that she would address an employer this way and it is terribly sobering for him.

“This was bound to happen one of these days.” He musters, clearing his throat. “First of all, anyone who calls me out like that has earned the right to call me Harrison. Secondly, you are right. I’ve been….unfair to you. For that, I apologize.”

Her eyes are comically wide at his admission. She nods stiffly after a brief pause which he takes as his cue to continue. “I honestly do wish to remedy the discomfort I have caused you and I am hoping this would be it.”

He slides the paperwork he had brought with him across the desk. She sighs, resting her elbows on the desk as her hands are poised demurely under her chin.

“I wasn’t being difficult. I cannot work with Tannhauser Industries.”

The delicate, pleading voice softens something inside of him and he throws every rule he has made about personal questions out of the window.

“Why not? What’s at Tannhauser Industries?”

“My mother.” The look in her eyes is bright but there is a hint of resignation as well.

“Oh?”

“Carla Tannhauser is my mother.” She clarifies.

“ _Oh_.” He exclaims. 

“Not many people know that. It’s intentional.” She answers. “There is no albatross for a scientist quite like a parent who is a well-known scientist.”

“No, I don’t suppose there is.” He agrees.

“That’s why I turned you- S.T.A.R Labs down.” She continues. “She offered me a position and I thought I might have a chance to mend our tumultuous relationship. I was wrong.”

“Her research...it’s quite different from what you’ve done and what you do here.” He says, puzzled.

“Well, I thought I could try a different avenue.” She looks away briefly. “My late husband had been working on a project with her and when he passed, I stepped in. It was… a flawed project, we never saw it to fruition and now it is probably gathering dust in the archives at Tannhauser.”

The wheels begin to turn in his head and then it clicks. He had heard rumours about Carla Tannhauser’s less than legal loopholes on a project that would have been a big deal. Big enough to establish themselves as a competitor of S.T.A.R labs. Their lead bioengineer had been a young, up and comer. Harry had seen a photograph somewhere, probably in the news, of a handsome, young man who’s name was at the tip of his tongue-

“Raymond, right? _You’re_ Ronnie Raymond’s wid-” He stops short as she grimaces. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to-”

“Yes, I am his widow.” She cuts him off. “Two years this summer.”

He has never known anyone widowed so young, he himself has been a few years older and suddenly the quiet, haunted look in her eyes, the air of wistfulness that surrounds her makes sense. It seemed familiar.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” He says softly, leaning forward. “It was not my intention to be inconsiderate.”

She nods. “I suppose you, of all people, understand what it’s like.”

“I wasn’t aware that you knew.” 

“It looks like we are both learning things about each other.” She offers. “Her name is on a few wings and rooms here.” 

“Yes, well.” He clears his throat, looking away from her. “I started this place not long after she passed and I wanted to name it Tess. I settled for a few rooms and the east wing instead.”

She’s watching him with a strange intensity when he looks up again, as if she is able to read every inch of his mind. It’s disarming, how quickly the look in her large eyes have provided him with a sense of being understood. The quiet, humming of the building surrounds them and all they can do is share a quiet smile as their ghosts are laid bare in front of the other to see.

\---

He runs into her in the elevator the next morning. 

She wishes him a tentative good morning to which he nods. They ride five floors in silence. There is a soft, fresh scent in the air and as he catches another whiff of it, he is instantly transported back to the late summer day when he met her. It takes him the next two floors to realize, as if an anvil had dropped from the heavens onto his head, that this scent had been buried somewhere in his memory for over a year.

The ping as the elevator doors slide open jolts him to the present moment and with a swift nod his way, she begins to step off. 

“Have a good day, Dr. Snow.” He says, the words leaving his mouth before his brain catches up.

She pauses, one foot still in the elevator. She turns slowly, a curious smile on her face. 

“You as well, Harrison.” 

She steps out as the doors begin to slide back together. He leans back as the elevator moves, trying to ignore the burgeoning pangs in his chest but to no avail.

\--

The weather begins to change and November brings with it the kind of chill that rattles one’s bones. Her heels click a little too loudly in the empty hallway as she makes her way to her lab. The sounds and sights in her lab are as comforting as they have always been and she is in desperate need of comfort.

Carla Tannhauser appeared on the premises yesterday at 8 am sharp. Dressed in a crisp suit, hair tied severely at the nape of her neck, stylish glasses perched on an aristocratic nose ensured that everyone cowered in the wake of her confident stride. She had watched from a few floors above as her mother stepped forward to shake Dr. Wells' hand. He looked different, as if he had dressed with an extra bit of finesse, and it wasn’t long before Caitlin found her eyes lingering on him, instead of her mother. She promptly retired to her lab, worked tirelessly for longer than needed and steered clear of the top floor where, she had no doubt, her mother was dazzling the board and a special group of researchers assembled for her. 

She ties her hair up as she settles to go over her tasks for the day. Her research is progressing at a glacial pace and while prepared for that outcome, she was itching to see some results sooner than later. 

But then again, she had been feeling this way ever since she knew her mother would be at S.T.A.R Labs. She paced in the stairwell yesterday during her usual coffee break, when the door had slammed open behind her. There was no need to turn out to see who it was.

“She doesn’t know you work here.”

“Did you tell her?”

“No.”

“Thank you.” She turned around in relief. His hair had been slightly rumbled as if he had run his fingers through it.

“She mentioned that you…” He began, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That you haven’t spoken since you stopped working for her.”

She nodded, feeling the urge to run down the staircase, away from his inquisitive gaze.

“No, we haven’t.”

She remembered, a little too vividly, how swiftly he had stepped forward. 

“Are you alright?” His voice had been soft, his blue gaze direct like the blazing sun. 

She sighs as the memories from yesterday worm their way to the front of her mind again, visceral and baffling. She spends an hour working on her own and when the clock strikes 9 am, she makes her way to the floor above. She avoids her usual route- _that stairwell-_ and instead charts a route from the West Wing. S.T.A.R Labs has many hidden nooks and crannies and she relishes the irony of a modern, technological institute reminding her of Hogwarts. She opens the door, faintly registering that she is walking on tarp and hears a shout before her world turns dark.

\---

He sighs for what seems like the millionth time today and reaches behind his glasses to rub his tired eyes. He can usually blame his staff and coworkers for being the catalyst to the blistering pain in his head, but this morning the blame goes to a very persistent Jesse. Her voice rings out through the speaker phone, a touch too shrill for his exhausted senses. He vaguely registers what she’s arguing about- weekend plans- and lets her have it out before he says his piece. He learned over the years that Jesse needs to process her many and varying shades of emotions, out loud. When she pauses for a breath, he takes the opportunity to strike.

“We went over this, didn't we?”

“Yes but _Dad-”_

“C’mon Jess, it's a family thing and you promised me that you would go with me.” He says, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks.

“Yes, but you can’t force my hand like that.”

“That’s not fair. I’ve never forced your hand and you know that.” He grunts out. “You made a commitment and I am simply holding you to it.”

“It’s ridiculous that you need me to attend a family event with you. You’re a grown ass man-”

“ _Language_.”

“Dad…fine. I’ll go.” The resignation in her voice sends a little current of guilt through him. “But if the food is crap, you have to get me a Big Belly Burger.”

“Kid, you’ll have to get in line.” They share a chuckle and he sighs in relief. “Listen, Jesse I appreciate-”

The door bangs open and in walks Cisco, his eyes widened with worry.

“I'll call you back, honey.” He ends the call, sitting up straight. “What’s wrong?”

“There was an accident-” Cisco starts.

“Who’s lab?”

“No one’s lab. The construction off the west wing? A piece fell from the scaffolding onto someone.”

“Good God!” He stands up instantly. “Anyone hurt?”

“Yep, nothing major though. Just a sprain.”

“Ok, the protocol’s in effect, I assume?” He reaches for the phone as Cisco nods. “Let me check in with HR. We need to stay on top of this, I don’t want anyone outside of S.T.A.R labs getting wind of this.”

“It’s Caitlin.”

The phone drops from his hand, making a loud clatter.

“What?” He whispers.

“Caitlin’s hurt. They are patching her up right now but she looks shaken.” Cisco says, shaking her head. “Apparently, there were no signs placed-”

He’s already walking to the door, seething. Cisco follows closely.

\---

The pain subsides to a quiet twinge that night and she wakes up with it mostly gone the next day. She glances at the window where the blinds were haphazardly closed by Cisco yesterday, and her breath catches at the sight of snow. It’s falling in a steady pattern, the enchanting white clumps coming to rest placidly on any surface in their way. The urge to pull the covers over her head and sink back into the pillows is strong but she doesn’t give in. Instead, she bathes, dresses, chugs coffee and swallows a painkiller before bundling herself up and heading out the door.

She decides to walk to S.T.A.R Labs, hoping the fresh air and the snow will help wear off the fatigue from yesterday's event. The workers had come scrambling off the scaffolding to lift her off the floor. A medic had been summoned, pronouncing that the most obvious injury was a sprain on her left wrist which took the weight as she tried to break her fall. Cisco had appeared out of nowhere, holding her hand in a vice like grip as he bellowed instructions to the small crowd that had gathered around. She vaguely remembers being ushered into Patty’s office as the medic checked her, confirming that there was no risk of concussion.

Cisco brought her home, helping her get rid out of her shoes and coat, and settled her on the couch. He must have called Barry because he showed up with a delicious smelling bag of take out.

“Really, I’m fine.” She had said, adamantly reminding them that she was a doctor, for heaven’s sake and did not need the hovering. They didn’t bother acknowledging her and simply settled in her living room as they had done countless times before. Between bites, she filled them in on her research and the goings on in her lab.

“You should have seen Harry today.” Cisco said. “He walked into the hallway when you were in Spivot’s office and just lost his mind.”

Barry cooed, wiggling his eyebrows for Cisco to continue. Caitlin had swallowed nervously.

“He went around yelling about putting up appropriate signage and that you could have been hurt.” Cisco continued. “He even cornered the medic who saw you… I mean I’ve only seen him this mad when Jesse is involved.”

Cisco’s pointed look stays with her as she reaches the entrance, swiping her card swiftly in the card reader. S.T.A.R Labs looks desolate and she chuckles out loud. Even scientists have a life on the weekend. She decides to go to her office first. There are emails to respond to and lesson plans to get ready for next semester so playing in the lab must wait. She needs the solace, she thinks, and needs to work so she can redirect her attention where it needs to be. 

She turns on the radio, finding the silence on her floor utterly foreign. The Christmas songs tumble out one after the other and she begins to feel the wistful pangs that almost always accompany the holiday season. She should change the channel to something less festive but like an addict clings to the highs despite the consequences, she clings to the bleakness. 

Somewhere between re-reading the academic integrity policy and the third time _Deck the Halls_ is played on the radio, she takes a sip from her cup only to be met with disgustingly cold coffee. Cringing, she swallows the liquid as a movement outside the glass door catches her attention. A young woman, seemingly on a stroll, stops short when she spies Caitlin and opens the door, stepping inside without invitation. 

“So you’re Dr. Caitlin Snow.” She says, her voice slightly high pitched. She is pretty, Caitlin notices, vaguely elfin-like in her appearance with curly hair, delicate features and bright, sparkling eyes.

It’s almost too obvious who she is.

“And you must be Jesse Wells.” She stands up, hand outstretched. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. You’re not how I pictured you’d be.” Jesse remarks.

“Oh?” Her stomach twists at what Harrison might have told his daughter about her.

"I was thinking of someone older. And _dowdy_.” Jesse gives her a once over. “But you’re not.”

“Dowdy?” Caitlin exclaims, looking down. 

“Dad didn’t really describe what you look like.” Jesse reasons. “He has been talking about you...and your research.”

Caitlin fights the urge to squirm under Jesse’s knowing gaze. Jesse, oblivious to Caitlin’s inner turmoil, turns around to observe the surroundings.

“I’d like to hear about your research.” She comments, off handedly. 

“Of course.”

“How about now?” Jesse tilts her head.

“Well…” She looks back to the abandoned pile and to the coffee cup. “I was thinking of getting a coffee.”

“From Jitters, across the street?” Jesse brightens as Caitlin nods. “I know, let’s have lunch!”

“Lunch?” She asks, unsettled at the immediacy in Jesse’s tone.

“Only if you have the time.” Jesse offers.

“I do-”

“There you are.”

Both women turn at the sound of his voice to find him standing by the door, his gaze turning to Caitlin.

“Snow.” He breathes out, treading forward. “What aren’t you at home?”

“I wanted to get a few things done.” She answers after a brief pause, his abrupt question sending her off her axis. 

“Are you better?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you.” She says, her tone more stilted than she wants it to be. Cisco’s words from the previous night rears it’s head and she had planned to thank him whenever she saw him next. But now that he stands in front of her, dressed more casually in an all black ensemble, the words escape her as the air between them seems strangely loaded yet again. It doesn’t help that Jesse watches with rapt interest, eyes darting between them.

“Well…” He starts, clearing his throat.

“Lunch! We are going to lunch.” Jesse exclaims, gesturing to Caitlin. “Why don’t you come too, Dad?”

He waves his hand noncommitedlly, “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not hungry.”

“Nonsense, you just told me you were starving.” Jesse points out. She seems to be relishing watching her father squirm, Caitlin notices with a small smile. It is a rare sight indeed to see the mighty Harrison Wells on edge.

“Well, I…” He fumbles, looking over at Caitlin, as if asking for permission. She shrugs, smiling at him because they have both been caught in Jesse’s web. “Alright, I could eat.”

The wind roars around them, pelting them with snow as they make their way across the street, huddled together with unusual intimacy. What should feel awkward- standing in line, ordering their food, settling into a table by the window- feels natural, most likely due to Jesse’s near constant chatter. Jesse is bubbling at the seams with curiosity, rife with questions and opinions and as Caitlin watches her, in awe of her enthusiasm. 

Her eyes are drawn to Harrison as Jesse launches into another tale and she is struck by how relaxed he looks in her daughter’s presence. He indulges Jesse, probing her with questions and still manages to banter with her. He laughs more in this hour than Caitlin has seen in the past few months and the sound, carefree and buoyant, confirms that she has caught a glimpse of an elusive part of him. 

Jesse is generous to shower her curiosity on Caitlin’s work, who is more than happy to oblige. She feels more confident about her work than she has felt in the past few months as her audience listens to her with close attention.

“It could really make a difference.” She states, a finger running over the rim of a cup. “But it’s a long road ahead, before we can even get approved for a trial.”

“How did you end up in this?” Jesse asks.

“Well, both my parents were in science, especially research.” She answers, noticing the slight tilt in Harrison’s body towards her. “But my father was ill for most of my childhood and I just knew that I had to go into medicine. ” 

“But you've always had an interest in research.” He comments.

“Hence the Phd?” Jesse adds.

She nods, a smile grazing her face. “That’s right. As an ophthalmologist you see a lot of long term illness or even incurable ones so it made sense to go into research. It’s not enough to just treat illness but to learn and discover in order to better some lives, my father used to say.”

“You know, I met your father once.” He remarks, softly. Her insides turn cold at his admission and she reaches for the cup in front of her.

“You’ve never mentioned that before.” She notes, cautiously. 

“I haven't had the chance to.” He shrugs, nonchalantly. She wants to point out that talking about her mother would have been the perfect segue into her father, who she has very carefully avoided mentioning, but she bites her tongue. Her father was, after all, just as well known in this community before his demise, much like her mother is these days.

“It must be over twenty years ago now.” He continues. “I attended one of his lectures. Of course, I hounded him with questions as soon as it was over and he was generous enough to invite me for coffee after. He was quite a man.” He looks her straight in the eyes at this statement, his stark admiration evident.

“He really was.” She affirms, warmly. 

Caitlin bids them goodbye a few hours later, insisting that she really must catch up on some work. Once outside, she glances at them through the window. Her heart aches as she watches their bright faces discuss something, and imagines that they must finish each other's sentences and cut each other off playfully as fathers and daughters do. 

\---

A knock on the door pulls his focus from the budget report that has consumed him for most of the day. He has been successfully running this institute for years but after all time he will never be even remotely thrilled at the prospect of budget reports.

“Come in.” He barks, gaze glued to pages in front of him.

“May I interrupt you?”

His head shoots up, the action sending a quick jolt through him. Or perhaps, he thinks as she steps in, the jolt might have been a consequence of her smile, open and guarded all at once.

“Of course, Dr. Snow. Come in.” He gestures, closing the binder in front of him.

“I thought I asked you to call me Caitlin.” She points out, sliding daintily into the chair on the other side of his desk. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

He had done everything _but_ forget how unusually playful her gaze had been as she slipped her arm in the coat as he held it for her. Her voice had been soft, asking him to drop the formal title and address her by her given name, which was not an outrageous request. After all, she called him by his and yet he can’t help but hesitate. As if saying her name was like crossing to the other side, all the unspoken barriers between them crumbling.

“I have not.”

“So,” She starts. “About yesterday.”

“Yesterday…” He lingers on the word as he tries to gage where she is going. “Thank you for indulging Jesse. I know she can be a bit...intrusive and high handed with her questions.”

“She is wonderful.” Caitlin smiles. “Her enthusiasm is admirable. She’s already emailed me to set up a tour of my lab. Has she always been like that?”

“Sometimes it feels like she puts up the front of a happy, enthused daughter,” He remarks honestly, somehow unable to feign pretense. “When in reality, had she not had the life she has, she might have been more mellow.”

“And you worry Jesse behaves this way for you?” 

“I do.” He answers, impressed with her perception “I want her to be whoever she is, not who she thinks she should be for me.”

Her smile falters as a wistful look appears on her face.

“When you lose a parent as a child, that loss becomes a part of you like nothing else. ” His breath hitches at her soft tone and she continues. “It’s entangled in the very core of your being, like it's embedded into your DNA."

He forces his gaze away from her large, brown eyes but hums to show that he is listening.

“In a sickening way,” She continues. “You don’t know how to function without it. You don’t know the person you would be if you hadn’t lost them.”

He swallows, looking back at her to find looking melancholic. “She has no memories of her mother.”

“Sometimes it’s better that way.” Caitlin says with a shrug. “Jesse seems grounded, though. And wise beyond her age.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.” He chuckles. “I’d like her to stay oblivious about her intelligence just a bit longer. Our world can be brutal for people with exceptional abilities. You’d know about that.”

“I certainly do.” She answers, crisply. “Which reminds me of why I came to see you.”

He senses the change in her demeanor, a crack that is barely there as if he has probed at some dark, secret part of her. 

“I was hoping you could give me your opinion on our work so far.” She continues.

“Oh. I…” He hesitates. “That’s not my area of expertise.”

“I know. But you are an expert on related things.” She points out. “And since this is the “flashy research” you wanted me to do, I was hoping for your feedback.”

“There will be feedback. There is a review process so you will hear my thoughts eventually.” He affirms, and when she looks unimpressed he adds. “Cisco will do the initial review since your department is in his wheelhouse-”

“Harrison.” She interrupts, her gaze direct and voice measured. “I am aware of what the process is for the review. I am asking you, nonetheless, to make the time to come to my lab, have a look at what we are doing, and tell me what you think.”

She seems determined to wreck his carefully crafted routine at S.T.A.R. Labs and yet, despite the warning bells in his head, he relents.

\----

“I value your opinion.” She says casually, leading him further into her lab. His pulse quickens and he wonders if accepting a cup of coffee was a mistake. Not that she had asked but instead thrust the cup into his hands and he gulped the liquid more out of surprise.

A dam opens inside of him, despite the locks that have remained closed and rusted from years of stagnation. It’s a strange, almost out of body experience, as he watches her illustrate the different stages of the study, the tight controls on his life begins to slip through his fingers, bit by bit.

He’d much rather have someone to blame for this phenomenon but he can’t help it when she comes by his office at the end of the day and they spend over an hour talking about what he observed with equal enthusiasm. He can’t help it when she stops by again the next day or the day after that and they lose track of time as the sun sets and S.T.A.R Labs quietens down. There is no one to blame for their shared disdain of social events and large crowds and their love for classic literature and jazz music from the 20’s. They share values and a staunch work ethic and when they do disagree, it leads to a healthy debate, each illuminating the other of a different worldview. He has no one to blame but himself when he stops by her office a few days later, clutching two cups of coffee tightly, his heart thudding wildly as her face- serene and celestial- breaks into a glorious smile.

He’s struck by how different she is from her mother one afternoon as he watches her elaborate on a recent publication. Carla Tannhauser is sharp and severe in every possible way. She enters a room with a threatening air and makes conversations even more stilted. Despite her initial guardeness, Caitlin boasts of a warm demeanor, a quiet, reliable strength that draws people towards her instantly. He finds himself relaxing around her, the tension in his neck dissipates, and his heart feels unmistakably light.

By the first week of December, he’s become accustomed to taking more work home than usual but it feels like a small price to pay for the pleasure of her company. December brings more chill and snow than he cares for but she has a childlike adoration for it which inevitably leads to a heated-but polite- disagreement.

“Of course you do” He teases. “What a fitting surname you have.”

“Oh c’mon, that's ridiculous. How can you despise snow?”

“I didn’t say I despise it, I said I’m not the biggest fan.”

“But that's not what you really meant.” She retorts, in a sing-song voice.

“Perhaps your parents should have named you Frost. That really would make an excellent name for you.” He goads.

She throws her head back slightly and laughs, the sound is sharp and beautiful and he is astounded at how _this_ woman had seemed maddeningly reticent, less than four weeks ago. He’s always felt a little bit entranced by her, even when she had walked right into him at that conference, but this here is something else altogether.

“You’re impossible.” She remarks, eyes sparkling and he feels the words escape him before he can even consider them.

“You’re lovely.”

\---

_You’re lovely._

She snaps her eyes open as she hears the words again, whispering through the dark air of her bedroom. She sits upright, listening to the sound of the wind and the cackle of the neighbors, their holiday party in full swing. They had invited her but she refused, insisting on an early night. So when 9:30 pm had rolled around and she couldn’t find any more chores to occupy her mind with, she crawled into bed. 

Now, nearly an hour after tossing and turning, she throws off her duvet and goes to the kitchen for a cool, glass of water. Her skin feels much too sensitive under her pajamas, her inside sizzling as anxiety courses through her. The urge to dunk her head under cold water is strong but she settles for drinking it, each sip a balm to her parched throat.

It’s nothing, she thinks, settling back in bed. People pay compliments to their employees all the time, there was no need to worry about it. There was certainly no need to relive the moment. Nothing good would come out of remembering the slightly dazed look on his face right before he said it or the sudden rigidity in his body as they floundered their way through the rest of the conversation. It was nothing meaningful, a fluke at the most, she concedes, closing her eyes.

_You’re lovely. You’re lovely. You’re lovely._

Hey eyes open again, a gasp escaping her as the air in the room sends little prickles of chill across her body. She reaches for the throw at the foot of her bed, wrapping herself for some warmth.

\---

She leans against the wall, nursing a glass of wine and surveys the room. The twinkling lights add a warm glow to the festive room, packed with S.T.A.R Labs employees dressed in their finest. She really should be socializing with her colleagues, flaunting her research but the disquiet thrum has been coursing through her all day and she will take any form of solitude right now. Grabbing a canape from a passing server, she catches Cisco’s eye who makes his way to her instantly.

He lets out a low whistle, pecking her in the cheek. “Look at you! You look like something out of a dream.”

“You flatter me.” She smiles, smoothing a crease on her emerald green dress. She had chosen the vintage piece for it’s timeless design and the surge of confidence she felt as she slipped on it.

“So, do we know how to throw a party or what!” Cisco exclaims, tilting his head. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the one person in the room she has been trying to avoid. He looks right at home, standing lean and long, a glass of scotch clasped in his hand. He reaches a hand to his tie and then promptly drops it, as if he suddenly remembered not to touch it. He has a disdain for forced formal attire and her face reddens as she recalls their conversation. 

_“Oh_ I see.” Cisco wiggles his eyebrows.

“What?”

“For what it’s worth, he hasn’t stopped looking at you since you stepped into the room.”

She scoffs and against her better judgement, turns her gaze to find him looking at her rather unabashedly.

“Never in a million years would I have pictured you two together but I approve.” Cisco says. She chugs the remains of her glass.

“We are not together.”

“Yet.” He adds, cheekily.

“Cisco.” She exclaims. “We can’t.”

“Because he’s your boss? Well, I’m technically your boss too.” He continues when she nods. “I don’t see you cutting ties with me.”

“That’s different.” She reasons. “You and I are practically family. He, on the other hand-”

“Is a good man” Cisco finishes, calmly. “And he cares about you. You should have seen him the day you and Barry were grabbing lunch at work. It was like his whole world had shattered seeing you with another man. I had to spend nearly an hour convincing him that Barry was just a friend.”

“That doesn't mean anything.” She says it more out of reflex than conviction, remembering how resigned he had seemed that day, as if the mere act of breathing was exhausting.

“I watched you both at the dinner the other night.” Cisco continues, softly. “He even asked you to call him “Harry”. Do you know how many people are allowed to call him that?”

It happened a few nights ago. All three of them had gone out to dinner after work and somewhere between debating whether to order more wine, he had leaned towards her and had casually said it. Her fork had escaped her grasp as she turned to look at him. He simply raised the drink to his lips and watched her nonchalantly. The next evening he told her she was lovely and she hadn’t had the courage to walk into his office since then.

“This is not how this was supposed to go. This job was meant to be a fresh start, a clean slate.” She mumbles as Cisco shovels her abandoned canape into his mouth. “If I had wanted a complicated work life, I would have stayed at Tannhauser.” 

“It doesn’t have to be complicated.” Cisco counters.

She gives him a pointed look, ready for a retort, but Patty joins them. Caitlin checks out of the conversation, offering an occasional hum and turns her attention to the other side of the room. He’s surrounded by different people now and despite his direct gaze at them, she can tell that he is utterly bored. 

Nothing uncomplicated about this, she concludes.

\---

The snow falls softly, shedding a luminous glow over the graveyard. There are a few visitors around her, each lurking in their own solitary bubble of sadness. The grieving have their own Christmas Eve traditions, she thinks.

The snow crunches under her feet as she reaches her destination. Some of the snow has been dusted off the headstone and there are flowers already placed. She bends down, adding her festive bunch to the ones left by his family. She and the Raymond family maintain a cordial relationship, growing distant with each passing year. Just as well, she muses as she runs a finger over his name on the headstone, she is used to being on her own.

“Hey, you.” She whispers what had been his choice words for greeting her. She had not been in the habit of talking to a headstone, never having done so at her father’s grave but everytime she came to see Ronnie, the words came tumbling out of her. Everything felt unfinished in the wake of his death so she never analyzed her actions and acted on pure instinct. 

The wind whistles through the graveyard but she ignores the chill and tells him about anything and everything that flits through her mind. She rambles on, hopping from one topic to another until her mind no longer leads her to the one person she doesn’t want to think about. When she is all out of words, she straightens.

She catches a movement in her peripheral vision and turns to the right. A man stands in front of a grave, head bowed and hands deep in the pockets of his dark coat. The line of spine is straight and all too familiar. She wonders if she could interrupt him as he pays his respects but is spared from taking action as his head swivels in her direction. He doesn't balk at her presence, as if he is not surprised in the least to find her here.

“Snow.” He greets, striding towards her. 

“I didn’t know…” She stops, hoping he understands. He does, nodding towards the grave he was standing at.

“She’s right there.” He looks back, gazing down at Ronnie’s grave. “And this must your husband?”

She nods. “And my father is over there, closer to the chapel.”

It’s odd, macabre even how normal the introduction of their dead loved ones seems. They are, after all, an ever present anchor, both grounding and weighty. He must have been on the same tangent because he sighs, a slightly wistful smile on his face.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” He states. “How are you?”

“Good. I’ve been busy.”

“So I hear.” He says, his face immediately turning a shade darker. She doesn’t press him on it.

“Any plans for the holidays?”

“Jesse is spending it with her grandparents. I’m supposed to join them tomorrow. I…” He looks over his shoulder. “I like to do this part on my own. It’s…”

“It’s tradition.” She finishes, looking down at the headstone again. “I understand.”

His eyes are glittering with emotion when she looks back up at him. “What about you? Any plans?”

“I have a standing invitation at Cisco's parents place and my friend Barry’s home.” She tugs her coat closer. 

“But?” He prompts.

“I prefer to be alone at Christmas.” She sighs. “I’m not usually in a celebratory mood and it’s much too exhausting to pretend to feel otherwise.”

His blue eyes travel the terrains of her face as he considers her words. It’s just as unnerving as it had been during the Christmas party or the afternoons spent in her office. She’s about to make her excuses to leave when he points to the bench by the spruce tree and says, “Do you want to sit down?”

“I’m afraid I’m not good company at the moment.” She offers. 

“I don’t mind.” He answers, gesturing to the bench. “So if it’s all the same to you.”

They brush snow off the part of the bench that isn’t shaded by the tree and lower themselves down. A few people walk by them with their heads lowered. As she looks around at the graveyard, hauntingly beautiful under the shower of fresh snow, the familiar sense of comfort washes over her. She’s been coming here since she was a child and it seems like a home of its own kind. She remembers how uncomfortable Ronnie had been when she had brought him. He had fidgeted, not knowing what to do as she laid flowers on her father’s grave. In stark contrast, Harrison seems right at home, still as a painting, eyes surveying the graveyard. 

He turns his head slightly, catching her looking at him and says, “What’s on your mind, Snow?”

“Just thinking about the people we’ve lost.” She mumbles. The unmistakable sound of someone crying rings through the air and they both quieten, absorbing the sounds of grief. “Does it get easier?”

The trembling breath he takes surprises and humbles her. Wrapped up in her own sadness, she seems to have not considered that he may not wish to speak about this.

“I think you can answer that just as well, if not better.” He says, not unkindly. He leans back, stretching his long legs ahead of him and she watches, captivated.

“My father’s death was a formative experience. It shaped me into the woman I am today.” She murmurs. “But Ronnie’s death just seems….”

“Unnecessarily cruel.” He finishes.

“Unnecessarily cruel.” She agrees. “Is it supposed to teach me something? Because all I’ve learned so far is how to live in silence in our home.”

“I moved, a few months after Tess died.” He says, looking her way. “She was in every corner of our home and it paralyzed me. I had a daughter to take care of and I couldn’t afford to be still.”

The blue of his eyes is darker under the night sky, pain evident right to the edges of them.

“Would you suggest I do the same?”

“No.” He musters. “I never suggest anything when it comes to grieving. Everyone has their own way of coping. If your home provides you with comfort, then why not stay?”

There are very few moments of comfort to be found anyway, she thinks to herself. The apartment had been drab and dingy when they found it. Within weeks they had turned it into a home, making a compromise between Caitlin’s love for vintage decor and Ronnie’s fondness for clean, modern lines.

“We held our wedding party in our apartment.” She says, fondly. “Neither of us cared for a big celebration and his family was more than happy with that.”

“And your mother?”

She shakes her head, looking back to the graves. “She was not invited. We were in one of our “not speaking to each other” spells. When she found out I was married, she offered Ronnie a job.”

“To mend fences?” He asks.

“So I thought. But it turns out it was a ploy to keep tabs on my life.” The bitterness with which the words tumble out of her mouth should not be as surprising as they are. He must understand her inner turmoil because he doesn’t follow up with a comment, only with companionable silence. 

“You left the Christmas party early.” He says, after a few minutes.

“Work parties aren’t really my cup of tea.” She says, shaking her head.

“Lucky you.” He hums, looking back towards the graves. 

“I suppose you had to stay till the end?”

“People can’t have too much fun if the boss is around so I make it a point to leave by 10 pm, which is later than I would like to.” He responds with a heavy sigh. “I don’t like I'll ever get used to this part of the job.”

She tilts her head to the side in a silent question.

“There is a lot more networking involved. I understand it’s importance.” He answers “But I miss being in my workshop. I miss science.”

“I thought you had projects in the works?”

“I do.” He clarifies. “But I’m not spending nearly as much time on them as I would like to. That’s one of the reasons I took Cisco on. He has an amazing knack for networking.”

“And he is a brilliant scientist.” She adds.

“No arguments there.”

“I remember when he signed on with you.” She smiles, remembering the day from a few years ago. “He was thrilled to be working with you and I was so jealous.”

“You were?” He asks, amused.

“Of course! He was leaving me at Mercury Labs to work with the great Harrison Wells.” She tilts her head and smiles. “I was crazy jealous.”

He looks pleased and she has to shake her head at the very _male_ reaction.

“I forgot you worked with Tina McGee.”

“I forgot she was your nemesis.” She teases.

“You have to be at the same level to be considered a nemesis.” He says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. She laughs out loud, the sound seems strangely fitting in the setting.

“Tina was my Phd advisor. She taught me just about everything I know.” She comments. “I would still be working 80 plus hours in a hospital if it wasn’t for her, which was not as fulfilling as I hoped it would be.”

“And this is?” He asks, softly.

She thinks about the strides they have made due to the grueling hours, even the hours she spent toiling at her desk this morning and concludes, “Yes, it is. I really do believe this research will change lives, Harry.”

“I’m impressed that you have so much assurance in your work.” He says.

“What's the point otherwise?” She counters. The haunting strains of a carol rings through the air and they turn their attention to people entering the chapel for a Christmas Eve service.

“It must be quite something to have faith.” He remarks. By the time she turns to look at him, he has arranged his face to look indifferent but the sad, yearning in his eyes gives him away. 

“Something to believe in.” She echoes.

“I envy them. My work used to be that for me. And now…” He sighs.

“That’s the thing about work. You reach the goal, publish the study, make a new discovery and then what?” She wonders. 

“You trudge on to the next thing?” He offers with a shrug.

“Sounds lonely.”

“It is.” He says it so softly that she wonders if she imagined it. “I suppose that’s why I can’t seem to make it to my workshop. I know what's on the other end.”

“It is still incredible, though.” She says and he raises an eyebrow in question. “The process of acquiring that goal, that _thing._ There is joy to be found in the hard work as well.”

“Indeed.” 

They listen as the carol changes to a more jubilant one, the voices echoing like a choir of angels. She glances at her watch and exclaims, “It’s almost midnight.”

“I should be heading home.” She continues, uncrossing her legs. “This was nice.”

“It was.” He says, watching her carefully. “I… I apologize if I offended you, after what I said the other day.”

“Oh.” Despite the chill in the air, her face feels warm. “You didn’t offend me.”

“Really? Because you’ve been avoiding me ever since...”

“I haven’t been-” She stops short when he gives her a pointed look. She inhales, summoning every ounce of courage in her being and says, “It just took me by surprise...what you said that day. But I’m not offended, I promise you.”

There is a glimmer of doubt on his face and it’s unbearable to watch. Since they are away from their place of work, surrounded by graves and Christmas music, she decides to admit it, not just to him but also to herself. “If anything, I was very flattered.”

The look of disbelief hardens before it is replaced by another one, an altogether pleasant one. 

“Well, in that case. While I’m feeling brave I must say,” He clears his throat, looking towards the floor. “I do think you are lovely and...quite charming.”

The wind blows almost in tandem with the thudding of her heart, as if someone were beating it like a drum. It’s gotten colder, she thinks as she feels a shiver in her body. When he finally looks back up at her, she is struck by how settled he looks. There seems to be no expectation of a response in his expression.

“I…” She starts, gulping for air as her brain scans for the right words. “I really should be heading home.”

He nods, getting up when she does, gesturing her forward. They turn right onto the pathway that divides the graveyard into two sections when he reaches out to stop her, fingers barely brushing the sleeve of her coat. She turns around to look at him, her heart setting off on a wild pace again.

“Would you like to spend Christmas with me?” He asks, softly.

\--- 

“Spend Christmas with you?” She gapes, her voice higher than it usually is. He’s surprised that the words slipped out of him with such swiftness but he offers her a confidant smile and shrugs. 

“Yes.” He reaffirms. “Since we are both going to be alone…”

“So we might as well be alone together?” She asks, an eyebrow raised. “Isn’t that a little...inappropriate?”

The caution in her voice is not surprising in the least but he still chuckles, “No, I don’t think so. I was thinking we could have breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” She repeats, dubiously. “What is this supposed to be?”

“It’s supposed to be breakfast.” He answers, gently. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can go in our capacity as anything other than-”

“Boss and employee?” She interrupts with a wistful smile. “Because that is what we are, right?”

“But that is not _all_ that we are.” He replies. When she looks away from him briefly, it dawns on him that they are standing halfway between her husband and his wife.

“And then what?” She looks up at him, eyes filled with doubt. 

The need to quell that doubt fills in him with ferocity so he steps forward. “And then...whatever we want. What do you say, Caitlin?

The church bells ring, signaling the dawn of a new day. 

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” She whispers before turning on her heel and walking down the path.

He texts her the address the next day, even though he received no confirmation that she would be there. He chooses a hole in the wall place close to his home, quiet and hidden away from bustling crowds on this bitterly cold Christmas morning. It had snowed all night, beginning shortly after he left the graveyard, blanketing Central City in mesmerizing silver. 

He had to laugh at the happenstance of his and Caitlin’s loved ones buried in the same graveyard. Of course, why wouldn’t they be, he had thought incredulously when he sat next to her last night. He’s never believed in fate but he has to concede that there is something serendipitous about them, something out of their reach that word cannot explain. He much prefers Cisco’s theory of similar events occurring across multiple universes or timelines. But a sense of familiarity has never been enough for him or so he had thought until last night. Something had changed in the air when they spoke, the ache in her mirrored his own to an alarming degree. Their grief, shared and unshared, bonded them a way he wasn’t aware people could be. 

He wondered, when he woke this morning, if he had overstepped. She wasn’t wrong to hesitate in accepting his invitation. He has seen careers unravel and reputations sullied because of a courtship gone wrong. But he’s also seen the other side of this, he tells himself, as he thinks of Jesse. 

He grasps the cup of coffee in front of him as he glances at the entrance door of the cafe. It’s snowing again and the intense feeling of loneliness that washes over him is worrisome. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she doesn’t show up, right? He would recover from this, surely? All the cherished memories of the past few months flashes before his eyes- the composure she held during her many presentations, the haughty lift of her chin when he undoubtedly annoyed her with his indifference, the thoughtful attention she paid to Jesse during lunch, the gentle swipe of her hand on Cisco’s arm after a long day, his inability to comprehend a single word when she sauntered into the Christmas party looking like a movie star from a bygone era, her angelic grace evident last night even in the most macabre place as the moonlight bounced off her alabaster skin. He forces himself to close his eyes as his chest fills with air and his heart beats a brisk rhythm. The door jingles, signaling the sound of someone entering and subsequently their footsteps get louder until they stop in his vicinity.

He opens his eyes.

\---

“You’re here.” He says.

“I’m here.” She echoes.

  
  


\--- **In another timeline** \---

_“Will we ever move past Flashpoint?” He asks, sorrow evident in his voice. “You have no idea how much I regret-”_

_No, don’t.” She stops him. “If it wasn’t for Flashpoint, you would have been on Earth-2 right now.”_

_“I would have been glum and even harder to be around, if that is possible.” They share a chuckle, and she feels the tension dissipate._

_“I’m yours, Harry. For as long as you will have me.” She whispers into the air between them._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
